Just a Phone Call, Wright
by Blackwidina
Summary: Apollo's not blind-he can see how much Phoenix misses his old friends.


A/N: I don't own the Ace Attorney series; I just play matchmaker.

I'm about to move tomorrow morning, so I'm going to just post this before I go. It's really short, I know, but I hope the fluffy quality makes up for it.

It'll take a couple of weeks to get internet at my new apartment—hopefully, I can take some of that time and write some more. My muses tend to show up more when they know I haven't any way to share their genius.

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><p><strong>Just a Phone Call, Wright<strong>

At the risk of sounding like Trucy, life was really weird, Apollo mused as he slowly filled out paperwork. One minute, he was a Phoenix Wright obsessed fanboy who'd gone into law to be like his unattainable hero, the next he was a Phoenix Wright obsessed fanboy who actually _worked_ for his hero. And his hero turned out to be human. Alarmingly so.

And even better than that, they were . . . well, partners. Apollo blushed at both meanings. They hadn't quite settled on how to write out the sign, since it was difficult to get the names 'Wright' and 'Justice' in some sort of configuration that didn't look like they were just trying to be punny. Of course, Phoenix still hadn't stopped teasing Apollo for choosing his last name.

The man himself was rooting through boxes he'd dug out of the depths of Trucy's closet. So far, they'd found original case records—which led to Apollo nearly having an orgasm at holding _The Phoenix Wright's personal court records_, which then led to about forty-five minutes of the older man teasing him. Eventually, Apollo'd had enough and returned to his desk, muttering about spiky-haired bastards.

Eventually though, he realized that Phoenix's movements had ground to a halt. Plus, his bracelet hummed a little on his wrist. He looked up to see Phoenix just staring at the contents of one of the records. While all of the pertinent evidence was now under lock and key at the police station, Phoenix still had pictures and copies of each piece. The distance between them wasn't that great, and he could see that Phoenix was looking at a color photocopy of what looked like a child's drawing of a burning bridge.

"What's wrong, Phoenix?" he asked softly.

The other jumped a little, looking sheepish. "Uh, nothing."

Apollo squinted at the picture, calling on years of obsessive study. "That's . . . the case of _California v. Hawthorne_, regarding the murder of Misty Fey, wasn't it?"

"Okay, that's fucking creepy."

Apollo shrugged, "Like you never read up on Mr. Edgeworth's cases?"

". . . Touche."

Smirking, Apollo leaned back in his chair. "If I recall correctly, and I think I do, that was the case we talked about before, where you jumped into a river or something, rig—uh, correct?"

"I didn't _jump_. I _fell._"

"Because you had the insane idea that a burning bridge would hold your heavy ass?"

"Phoenix. Flames. Flying. Made sense at the time," was the flippant reply, before a startled, "Hey, my ass isn't that heavy!"

"Uh huh. So, after once again proving your immunity to silly things like _death_, Mr. Edgeworth stood in for you, yeah?"

"Yeah, but only for the first day."

"And that picture, if I'm not mistaken, was made by the victim's assistant, L—L . . . dammit, I want to say either Larry or Laurice for some reason."

"Technically, both. Larry Butz, whom I assume you read about in my debut case, you freaking stalker. He was calling himself Laurice Deauxnim at the time—don't ask. But what most people don't know is that he was my best friend."

Apollo's eyes grew wide. "Really? Him? I mean, he seemed like such an airhead in his testimony . . ."

"Oh _that's_ definitely true. Larry's what my dad would call a 'character.' Not to be confused with _having_ character." Phoenix was grinning in recollection. "He was friends with me and Miles."

"Wait, _Mr. Edgeworth_ knew this guy? For some reason, I can't imagine the two of _them_ hanging out."

Nick shrugged. "Well, Larry and I were already friends when we met Miles. I just hung out with both. And no matter what Miles might say on the subject, I think he considered Larry a friend back then, too. We were a trio of misfits. Larry was the class prankster, Miles was the class snob, and I was the only one crazy enough to be friends with _them_."

Apollo snickered, "Yeah, that sounds about right. So, why haven't I gotten to meet this Larry guy? Does he still live around here?"

The other's cheerful expression flickered and died. "I . . . well, I guess Larry . . . we haven't talked in years. I . . . haven't really kept up with anyone from back then. I think it's probably too painful for everyone."

He blinked. "Phoenix, it's been seven years and counting. Don't you think that's a long time to be still crying over spilled milk? Larry's your friend. So were a lot of those people, weren't they? Mr. Edgeworth and Ms. Von Karma-"

"Whoa, there, friend is _not_ the word for Franziska."

"Whatever. But the Feys were your friends, too, but you almost never talk about them. I can't imagine . . . I mean, _all_ of them didn't leave you, did they?"

Phoenix's eyes grew wide, and he looked shocked at the idea. "No! Just, _no_! Maya and Pearls would never . . . it's just . . . Polly, I wasn't really . . . after my disbarment, I wasn't . . . I was ashamed, even if I tried not to act like it. I didn't want them to see me disgraced, so I tried to keep them away."

"Did it work?"

"Hell no. But being my friends, they finally accepted that I needed some time by myself to think. And . . . I just . . . I was so busy with getting Trucy settled in, and then Miles left, and I . . ." Phoenix looked so sad, even his spikes were drooping. Shoulders slumped, he shuffled over to the couch.

Apollo set down his paperwork, marched over to the front door and put the 'Out to Lunch' sign up, then proceeded to straddle Phoenix's lap. He grabbed Phoenix's chin and forced their gazed to meet.

"'Pollo?"

"Nick, they're your friends. You should call them."

Phoenix bit his lip, his eyes filled with a touch of fear. "But . . . it's been so long. What if they've forgotten me, or they're mad at me for being such a jerk?"

"Trust me, if they're your friends, they'll come the moment you give them the okay. Besides, isn't Maya the one who keeps sending you Samurai seasons? She's putting in the effort to stay in touch, isn't she?"

"Well, yeah, but . . ."

"But what? Friendships take maintenance, you know. Call them, invite them to the office. I promise, I'll try to keep my 'freaky stalker' tendencies to a minimum."

"You're serious, aren't you," Phoenix murmured, rubbing his hands over Apollo's back.

Apollo leaned into the touches, humming in delight. "I am. I haven't had a lot of friends, so I think it's important to keep the ones you find. Besides, I bet Trucy'd love to have an audience around. And I know _I'd _love to meet the people that are crazy enough to be friends with you."

"Hey! I'll have you know, I'm the sanest one of the lot!"

"Uh huh," Apollo deadpanned. He brushed his knuckles over Phoenix's jaw, feeling the stubble he was slowly growing fond of. "Well, _I'm_ going to go back to work. _You_ need to finish cleaning out those boxes. But think about it, okay?"

"I promise, I will."

Parting reluctantly, Apollo and Phoenix went back to their work.

Two days later, when Phoenix invited him out to dinner to meet with the infamous Larry himself, Apollo barely contained his fanboy squeal.

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><p>AN: Please read and review—I love hearing feedback! 3


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